


A Study In Scarlet

by HKHolmes911



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-05
Updated: 2014-06-27
Packaged: 2018-01-22 02:49:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1573346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HKHolmes911/pseuds/HKHolmes911
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Red velvet seats in an old theater. vibrant red hair and cold eyes. gold blond hair and a little Shakespeare.<br/>It's not a love story, and it's not supposed to be. so whats the harm in a little fun.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. YES

The lights darkened and the crowd hushed. My father in the next seat, let go of my hand. We turned with excitement to face the stage. My blood quickened with the anticipation of a great performance. The old red velvet was comforting and familiar. I sunk down in the chair and let my head fall back. The lights came up on the stage and the play began. It was a comedy; funnily enough it was about actors. It was well-acted and well-written. Then, a third of the way through the first act, I saw him. He had luscious gold hair and bright sea green eyes. You could see their fire from across the room. He was tall and fit, not a man to run a marathon but he looked extraordinarily handsome. The program told me everything I needed to know. His name was Ryan Xavier Gambles, he was twenty eight, and had attended Julliard.  
　　　　During the one hour and forty-five minute performance, I was unable to take my eyes off him. Perhaps I was seeing what I wanted but I couldn’t help thinking that every so often he was looking at me. It would be hard to miss the explosion of red hair if I were sitting in the back row. Sitting in the second, it was a positive hazard. During intermission, I was lost in thought. I couldn’t tell my father that I was thinking how flexible the lead actor looked, how much I wanted to feel him to pull my hair. When he asked why I was so quiet. My father got the typical response of any parent that had a teenage daughter with something to hide. A charming smile and sweet daydream answer. Contrary to all beliefs I found no pleasure in lying to people, particularly my parents. I lied because I was good at it, and it was easier to prevent a hurt with a lie than to try and mend the hurt delivered with truth. Another lie was believed when my father was convinced to move a row up and a few seats over. It was an experiment that needed to be performed. I needed to see if he would look for me.  
　　　　 The lights in the theater went down and the stage lights came up. Within five minutes he was standing center stage, proclaiming his love, in Shakespearean prose. His heart rate went up and his skin was damp with sweat. Could it be anxiety from the performance? That was most likely but far too dramatic a reaction for a seasoned actor, in the second act. A thrill of pleasure shot down my spine as his eyes swept the crowd. He moved closer and closer to the edge of the stage. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up as his eyes found me. His stare felt like a fire on my skin. Calming on the surface but tearing in to my stomach, making it flip and turn. He was still speaking, not that I heard any of it.  
　　　　 I was caught in his eyes. The things I could do while looking into those eyes were impossible to not imagine. This was not love; no this was something I wanted, this was something I could control. I saw it just as he turned to walk off stage, the blood, the flesh rising. It may be crude, yet these topics that are not talked about within polite society, are a large part of human existence and cannot be ignored no matter how they are hidden behind closed doors, or cruel forbidden words. This is not a story of love, nor does it become one.  
We had our first kiss that same night, a hot, passionate, steamy, kiss. His hands smoothly worked their way through my hair, gripping and pulling his way, till he got a grip at the base of my neck. He sharply pulled back. The hand still entwined in the mass of red curls denied me the chance to move back into the kiss.  
　　　　“Who are you?” his voice was soft and calm. I didn't see the need for caution, considering that we were alone in the light both, the only people left to watch the empty stage. I was straddling him in the control chair. With two buttons on my blouse undone and my skirt hitched up above my thighs  
　　　　“I’m the girl you saw in audience and wanted instantaneously, remember?” I was not sure what he wanted me to say. Most men don’t ask questions at this point. Questions were expected before and after, the making out, not during. He shifted in the seat and I could feel his attraction pressing against me.  
“I know that, but who are you. What sort of world is it that keeps you and me apart for so long.” He had bent close to whisper in my ear. I made positive he was unable to see as I rolled my eyes. If he thought he was seducing me, well done to him. (But by god that had to be the cheesiest line I’d ever heard) He deserved a little fantasy. All fantasies have their uses, and this one would do well for my purposes. It would do for now. As long I would be able to break him of it later, preferably sometime in the early morning.  
“Shhhhh.” I put my finger to his lips. Thin lines filled in with full, lush, flesh.  
“How old are you?” he asked stroking my shoulder. I could feel the anticipation of painful discovery. I hadn’t exactly lied to him, and I didn’t want to start now, but certain truths had been left unanswered. There would be yelling and angry names, and perhaps if I pushed the right buttons, there might be blows. Not too hard, but just enough to make a smart bruise. That was only to be used as a last resort. I had to remind myself of that several times, as I pictured the black and blue discoloration. I involuntarily tightened my thighs around his slim waist.  
“I’m seventeen, eighteen in February.”  
“Good…wait, what?” his eyes opened wide and his eyebrows flew up.  
“I am seventeen years old, and I want you to kiss me again.” I pulled his head back towards mine, and kissed that full mouth, good and hard.  
“You can’t be seventeen.” He was stunned; he pulled his mouth away from mine. The worst part was he was so gentle. He softly pushed me away, and smoothly detangled out limbs. He sat me in the chair we had just occupied and started to pace back and forth across the room. I started to think this was going to be more trouble than it was worth. I wished I had accepted my father’s ride home. He was still pacing with his hands running through his hair. I had obviously been wrong in my estimations. I reached over for my jacked and stood. The poor man looked at me with a question on his lips.  
“I’ll leave. You should forget this ever happened, and you will never have to speak to me again.” For me this was an all too familiar scene. I usually tried to stay and make sure they weren’t in danger of doing anything stupid. Like calling the police, or confessing their sins to a bottle of booze. I usually stayed, but I had a long cold walk ahead of me, and I was sorely disappointed by the turn the night had taken.  
“Hold on.” He grabbed my arm and pulled me closer to him. His grip hurt, and I smiled at the feeling. He looked into my eyes and tried to read something in them. I tried to pull away, but he pulled me back harder.  
“Why?” I wanted to say more, I wanted to make him see what I wanted. he pulled harder and forced me back into the chair. I closed my eyes and took in the sensation. He didn’t let go, and his fingers dug into my flesh. I could almost see the purple marks that would be there tomorrow. I opened my eyes and looked into his. A punishing smile played around my lips. There might be hope for his after all, I thought as he took hold of my hair hard, and roughly maneuvered my mouth to press against his. Then he pushed me down.


	2. no

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> we sometimes find that was is best for us is not for the ones we love.

　　　　Two weeks later I lay on the bed stretched out on my stomach, I had nothing on but one of Ryan’s light blue dress shirt, with white cuffs rolled up above my elbows. My laptop was open on the sheets with fingers flying over the keys. Ryan leaned against the far wall with only his pajama bottoms to cover him, his eyes flitting over my flesh. I could feel his stare like an actual touch on the exposed skin beneath the hem of the shirt. The windows wept many large tears as the rain reverberated on the roof like a beating drum. The last rays of the sun came in to the room and turned everything a deep vibrant red. I looked up at Ryan still standing in the doorway watching me. I liked it when he watched me; it gave me the sensation of being under a magnifying glass. My gaze drifted to the vase of roses behind him. The red sunlight made the petals glow. My hand came up and pressed against the purple bruise on my shoulder. The bite mark was just starting to heal over, and I already missed it. (Not to worry, I would be getting more soon.)I came up out my thoughts when his cool hands stroked down my spine, sending a shiver through me. I gave my head a little shake to clear it. And let the sensation of cool hands on my overheated body take my attention.   
　　　　“Can I ask a favor?” he whispered in my ear.   
　　　　“I thought I did you a favor in the broom closet at the theater. Isn’t it my turn to ask the favor” Keeping my eyes focused closed, reveling in the staggering intensity the blindness produced.   
　　　　 “It’s nothing like that; this has nothing to do with sex.” He traced the shell of my ear with his lips.   
　　　　“Well that sounds like an extremely boring favor.” I rolled my shoulders.  
　　　　He put his hands on my hips and flipped me over so I was on my back looking up at him. He looked down at me tenderly and bent to kiss the marks he had left on my neck and shoulders. This always seemed to make him feel better about making them in the first place, so I made an appreciative sound. His hands lightly brushed mine as he stretched them over our heads. I knew what was coming and it took all my strength to not tense my muscles with anticipation. Without another warning my wrists were in a vice like grip and being pulled down and backwards so the pain shot through to my shoulder.   
　　　　“So this is no fun.” He whispered. I could hear that devil smile on his lips. I had my eyes closed tight and arced my back.  
　　　　“This is fun. This is sex. You said it had nothing to do with sex.” I had to pause and take in the sensation of his hold tightening and his soft lips tickling the underside of my wrist.   
　　　　“The favor is not a sexual one. I never said there won’t be sex.” He was being infuriating with just gentle nibbles along my palms. We had played this game before. I had two options and I knew it: I could say yes to the favor blindly. Or I could beg.   
　　　　“Ok, yes. I’ll do it” my choice was rewarded when he sunk his teeth into the flesh above my wrist. Nerves went off like fireworks; he had never bit me that hard before, even when I asked him to. It was too good for me to think through. I just lay there and took it in letting the blood swell up and break against the pressure. I couldn’t think about it right then but I figured it out later. It would have to be one hell of a favor to earn a bite like that.   
　　　　It was the next Saturday that I found myself standing in the Palace hotel, during the bi-annual founder’s ball. This year was themed Victorian Mascaraed its catch phrase was: the Masks and the Secrets come un-done at midnight. I found this cheesy and contrived. I was in the theater just of the main ball room and I was standing in the wings, looking into an old faded mirror. I was hiding from the mass of people outside. I had been wondering around the party for a good hour. Keeping my eyes out for Ryan, not sure if I wanted to pull him into the broom closet or beat him to death with a wine bottle. Whispers and pointed looks had flown wherever I went. From what I could tell, no one could figure out who I was, not that they didn’t try. A few came up and tried to talk me into identifying myself. I politely refused to talk. A few more came up and tried to seduce me. I rather liked those and wasted a good half hour flirting with a handsome young man dresses as an emerald green lizard. The conversation had ended with a kiss on the cheek and him giving me his number. (I fully intended to call him tomorrow) I was reminding myself a bit of Cinderella at the ball. I smiled at the fanciful thought. So I stood there and examined my reflection. I was supposedly a phoenix. I was stylish and I liked the dress quite a lot. But when I wore it seemed pompous and overdone, and too good for me. I felt like the wolf in the skin of a princess. I hated the feeling, but Ryan had bought it for me especially for this occasion. So I wore it. He had whispered in my ear that I was to meet him in the stage room. Then he gave me a quick kiss, the evil grin I was rapidly learning to distrust, and a glass of half vodka half orange juice, my preferred alcoholic beverage. He was dressed like a gray fox. That is to say he had a silk silver scarf around his neck and a silver gray mask, with a pointed snout and whiskers.   
I got very un-nerved standing there with only my reflection and my thoughts for company. I started looking around trying to find some sign that Ryan had been there, and I found nothing until I made my way on stage. There were two chairs. One was an ornate throne with gold fleur-del-lies and red velvet. The other was a simple straight backed dark wood. There was a white envelope on the throne with a big gold star on the front. I opened it and heard my jaw hit the floor, because inside was a red silk blindfold. It was a simple thing meant to block out light during the sleep of the easily woken, I hated it the instant I felt the smooth cool touch of it against my skin. I stood in the middle of the stage holding the dreadful thing desperately forcing my mind to the here and now, begging myself to let the sensation of tall heels and tight corset ground me and keep the past at bay. I pulled myself together long enough to notice the note that was also there. It was simple with only four words in Ryan’s strong curly hand wring. Do You Trust Me? 

 

R-

　　　　I had been sitting in the sound booth waiting for her to show up. I ended up entertaining myself by looking over a script my agent had sent me. It was so good that at first I didn’t notice she was on the stage. She spent a time looking at the chairs. I was gripping the arms of my chair, holding myself back. My excitement was building, with every passing moment. I watched her, every movement determined and graceful. The dress I bought for her rustled with her movements, the gold strips in her hair glinted and winked in the stage lights. It was a dark vibrant red with metallic gold dripping from her shoulders and corset. There were gold pastel wings on the back that curved around her hips and went as far down as her knees. That untamable hair had been corralled into a lovely complicated braid, which went down her back and was intertwined with what she described as gold tinsel. She had a fan of golden feather over her left ear. The mask was the only thing she chose everything else was picked by me. It was a simple affair, deep red with black lace around the edges and exquisitely detailed gold wings extenuating the eyes. I had wanted the one that was light and matched the dress, but she made it clear to me that if I changed the mask, the only sex I would be getting would with my left hand. I was so focused that I didn’t see she was reaching for the envelope until she had it in hand. For the first time since I’d know her, I saw her scared. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from her face. This wasn’t supposed to scare her. It was supposed to be an experiment, an enjoyable experiment. She was trembling, with terror as she read the note. I wanted to get up and go to her, hold her and stroke her hair make her know that everything was going to be fine. She looked around the theater and found me in the sound booth. She couldn’t possibly see more than my outline, but she laid naked my soul at sixty paces.  
She raised her hands to untie her mask and I saw her hands were shaking. She hesitated before she picked up the blindfold and again when she placed it over her eyes. I was stunned, petrified and turned to stone. I was unable to help, as she blindly reached for the throne and carefully sat down. She was there waiting for me, blindly trusting. An electric bolt ran through me. She was waiting for me, blindly trusting me. I slipped off my shoes and slowly made my way up to the stage. She gripped at the arm so hard her knuckles were white. She was strait backed pressing her head against the chair back. She was tapping her foot to a nervous rhythm. I stretched out my hand and brushed away a lock of hair that had come away. She jumped and made a high pitched sound of surprise. I pulled her face up right and kissed her hard and passionately. I knelt in front of her running my hands over the fabric of her dress. I smiled as I watched her chew on her bottom lip. I Ran my hand over her exposed ankle, and felt the shudder that went through her. It was only a day or two ago that she had arched beneath me and pressed her skin into me. How she had shivered just like that when I violently grabbed her legs and pulled her into me.   
　　　　“I love you.” The words came out of my mouth, before I could stop them. I closed my eyes and bit my lip, turning my head away. I clenched my jaw ready to hear comforting words of sorrow and regret. I waited, and waited. Both the Greek and Roman empires could have risen and fallen in the time that I waited. I dared to open my eyes but not raise my head. Out of the corner on my eye I saw the blindfold float to the floor, floating like a feather to land an inch away from my left hand. She was standing in front of me. Her eyes had lost their warmth and my abdomen was squirming like a snake.   
　　　　“You don’t love me.” Her voice was cool and composed. It made me shiver to see how fast she could shut off all emotion.   
　　　　“I shouldn’t. It’s perverted and wrong. I mean you’re just a kid.” She didn’t soften one inch; there was no relief in her eye. A cold hand closed around my heart and stopped the beating.   
　　　　“I love you.” I choked it out like mucus in my throat. The flesh on my neck turned to fire at her touch and hope sprang up like a bon-fire in my chest.  
　　　　“You won’t when I’m done.” She bent close to kiss my cheek. Shunned and confused I watched her dress swing to the rhythm of her hips as she walked off the stage and out the double doors, back to the ball. The cold hand had stilled my heart again, and now had control of my actions. Without feeling it I got unsteadily to my feet and ran trembling fingers through my hair. The quite noise of an empty theater rang in upon my empty brain. I could see my feet move and my hands open the doors letting in the world. I took a deep breath and followed her into the party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please comment. its what keeps me writing.


	3. Goodbye To You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rain makes everything more dramatic

Three weeks later I was sitting on the couch not watching a British car show. The street lights had just come on, and the light rain that had been falling for the last two hours and was just starting to ease off . I was just about to pull myself off the couch to take a shower when there was a crash on the door. It startled me up out of my comfortable stupor. I opened the door and felt everything go numb. Her red hair was damp and clung to her skin. Her jeans and light purple camisole were soaked through accentuating her curves, the leopard print bra with pink lace completely visible underneath. She was bent over clutching her knees like she had just run a race. I stood in the doorway like a statue shamelessly stared at her, drinking in the much missed sight of her body.  
“Can I come in or are you going to keep me out here in the rain?” she panted from behind her curtain of wet hair.  
“Right, sorry. Come on in.” I snapped back to reality and stepped out of the way. She passed by me and when strait to the small bathroom. I couldn’t move if I had anywhere to move to. When we had first meet we had been in almost daily contact, but since that night at the ball I hadn’t heard a word from her not so much as a ‘goodbye’. Three weeks without a word. It was disturbing how easily I had become accustomed to having her in my life, and how the withdrawal was killed me. She came out with a towel keeping her hair in a pile on top of her head. Her clothes were gone and she had slipped on my red dress shirt. She smiled sadly as she leaned against the door frame. The dull furry I had been keeping somewhere in the pit of my stomach exploded. I rushed to her side and I cupped her face in my hands and looked in horror at the shiny black eye she was attempting to hide, but in turning her head she exposed an another purple bruise on her jaw. I took her by the shoulders to steady the both of us. She was looking down at the cold floor and the fact that she would not meet my eyes scared me.  
　　　　“Who did this to you?” The deep strong voice came out of nowhere, I realized it came from me and was too focused on her to care. I was shaking with rage, gripping her arms so tightly she would have five more busies on each arm.  
　　　　“Who did this to you? Answer me.” I was shaking her with desperation in my eyes, thought my voice was still; through no fault of my own, calm and composed.  
　　　　“It was just some stupid people. It’s nothing really.” She pulled back and leaned against the other side of the door. She was staring out the window, counting the drops on the glass.  
　　　　“Then why are you ashamed?” she looked at me with that piercing gaze and for the first time I could matched the intensity.  
　　　　“I’m not ashamed.” She may have held her head up, put her hands on her hips, and straitened her spine, but the self-assured attitude didn’t quite reach her eyes  
　　　　“Yes you are. Why? What did they do to you?” I could feel the heat from my body being absorbed by hers. I couldn’t bring myself to let go of her arm, or to look away from her bright distrustful eyes, holding on to the sight of her discolored face like a life raft. I reached up and stroked her cheek, and a smile spread across my face at the rain chilled skin.  
　　　　“It’s not important.” She shook her head and staring at me  
　　　　“Yes it is.” My hands were slowly stroking up her cold body starting at her waist and moving down to her hips  
　　　　“Why?” she looked with genuine confusion  
　　　　“Because I still love you.” she froze and I took full advantage, letting my hands move to work up her back and pop the first button of the shirt, revealing far too little skin.  
　　　　“I’m leaving.”  
　　　　“I think that’s a good idea. You need to get out of here now.” I murmured as I worked my fingers under the towel and dropped it to the floor. I pressed in closer to her and wrapped my other arm around her waist pulling her into my body heat.  
　　　　“No…” she took a strangely unsteady breath and shifted from one foot to the other. “I’m leaving for Chicago on Friday to finish out my senior year there.” She never looked away as she delivered this astonishing announcement. Keeping her cold gaze focused entirely on me. I took half a dozen stunned paces away and collapsed into a chair when it came into painful contact with the back of my legs. She stood stock still not moving towards me or away from me, simply standing.  
　　　　“You’re leaving.” This time I was the one to not meet her gaze.  
　　　　“Yes, it should make it easier for you to forget me. I thought you would be pleased.” She tilted her head in that cold heartless way that only she could.  
　　　　“Pleased! You thought that I would be pleased at the thought of never seeing you again.” I was standing and pacing the room in front of the door now. The rain began to stop and a faint ray of sunshine peered through the skylight.  
　　　　“Yes, obviously I was wrong.” She seemed more frustrated than anything else. It was amazing how easily one could forget who she really was, and what she was like. I sunk down into the chair, with my elbows on my knees and my head in my hands.  
　　　　“I didn’t mean to break you like this. I am sorry.” There was a pause that stretched years as I took in her words. The clouds condensed again and the rain started pattering on the window lightly  
　　　　“I’ll get my clothes.”  
　　　　“No!” I moved to pick up the towel behind her, for once feeling sure off my purpose.  
　　　　“I’m leaving, and you’re not pleased.” She faced me with a quizzical face.  
　　　　“yes.” I took one step towards her.  
　　　　“You still proclaim your love for me.” She was confused. There was just the faintest hints panic starting to show as I took another powerful step  
　　　　“Old fashioned, but yes.” another slow step forward.  
　　　　“What are you doing?” This time she took a step back as I took one forward.  
　　　　“You’re leaving.” We both moved  
　　　　“Yes” another step for both of us. She was throwing glances side to side. Searching for escape routes if she needed them.  
　　　　“I won’t see you again.” I didn’t move this time and I could see the frustrated look she had when she got something or someone wrong.  
　　　　“Most likely not.” She answered refusing to admit defeat.  
　　　　“Then I’m doing the only thing I can.” With one synchronized step she had nowhere to go, her back pressed up against the bathroom door.  
　　　　“What are you doing?” Now there was fear. The only fear she could really feel, not the fear of pain, or loss, or the things that come out of the dark. This was the fear that she had failed to read me. The fear that she was only human. The rain thundered down on the roof. And the only light came from the muted TV  
　　　　“I’m saying goodbye.” I opened the bathroom door backing her into the small room. I opened the cabinet and retrieved a small package that had lain untouched there since that fatefully disastrous night. She opened her mouth the closed it again, the wheels in her head were clearly turning and she acted with a single minded propose when they had finished working. Her lips were on mine and her hands helping me out of my T-shirt. I had just enough blood left in my brain to push her away and turn away to finish my work. Opening the package and gripping the gifts tightly. When I turned back she was grinning at me with a lustful savagery I remembered from when we had first started out. I gestured to the hook in the ceiling we had put in together for this purpose. The flickering light of the television was interrupted with two bright bursts of lightning.  
　　　　 “Pick your goodbye present then.” I pulled her hands into mine and intertwined our fingers around the strips of cold metal and supple leather then took a step away. A pair of police issue hand cuffs in the left hand and a sturdy leather belt in the right. Without hesitation and a smile the devil would envy, she locked herself into the handcuffs with her arms extended above her head. She writhed gently in her new bonds, when she looked at me and winked. She dropped the leather belt and deftly caught it between her lips. Smiling in the way only she could as if to say: that was for you and no one else. A boom of thunder rang through the small apartment making the water in the glasses vibrate. A lie in its most basic form, but I was the one telling it, so what did it matter. The red shirt was open and flowing around her shadowy form. I looked into her darkened eyes I knew without a shadow of a doubt what I was and what she was.  
　　　　“You are mine.” I reached up and locked belt into a noose restricting her air and pulling her closer. The expression on her face was one of pleasure and pure bliss, as she struggled for air. Then in the echo of a thunder clap. A question I almost didn’t hear.  
　　　　“Do You Still love me?”  
　　　　“Yes.”  
　　　　“Why?” I loosened the belt and allowed her to breath, letting her pant for a moment as I took a moment to think about how I wanted to answer her.  
　　　　“I love you, there’s no real why it’s just that I do. I guess it’s who you are all the little things that make you who you are. The way you talk and think, the way you want me to strap you down and make you scream when I know for a fact that you could probably kill me without a second thought. I love you I’m not proud that I’m in love with a girl that’s just barley legal, but I love you, no serious reason just that, just you.”  
　　　　“Ain’t you always the charmer?” She said with a small smile.  
　　　　“I mean it every word.”  
　　　　“Don’t.” she closed her eyes and hung her head as if she were suddenly ashamed.  
　　　　“Why? I love you, why won’t you let me.” she was still bound to the ceiling her arms must have been in some terrible discomfort, but she didn’t offer a word of complaint. I grabbed her head and forced her to look up. She resisted and I dropped her chin.  
　　　　“Because you won’t when I’m done.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please comment

**Author's Note:**

> I'd like to know what you all think. As a writer i love reading, and as much thought as you put into your user name, it would be nicer to actually see what you think.  
> please comment. It makes me happy.


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